Hunter's Soul
by Brandon C. Clabo
Summary: The Box has surfaced again and when it is opened it leads to a spiral of death and destruction unlike the world has ever seen. The Winchesters will face unparallelled danger and will be forced to turn to an unlikely new ally to save themselves.
1. Prologue: Lamenting the Singer

Prologue: Lamenting the Singer

Bobby Singer sat alone in the back room of his home. The blinds were drawn cutting out all outside light. The only flicker casting shadows were candles arranged in a circle around him. Bobby was on his knees. Before him was a small black box, decorated in gold trimmings. It was clearly a puzzle. Bobby traced his finger around an arranged circle on one side.

A stinging static shock burned his finger, but he didn't dare take it away. The top of the box slid up, opening to Bobby's touch. The box continued to move, twisting into its true malicious design. Bobby aided the process, raising the main mechanism of the lament configuration and turning it slowly before pressing back down. A small circle opened on the top. Three hooked chains launched from the opening. One dug deep into Bobby's neck bringing a heavy flow of blood. Another burrowed into each arm, staining his shirt a crimson red.

The room was filled with light now, but it did not ease the ominous atmosphere. Footsteps echoed through the room over the sound of heavy chains. "Welcome Bobby," a feminine voice cooed.

"We have such sights to show you," a sinister male promised. He stepped foreward. He wore sleek black robes, a mix of a priest and a butcher. His skin was pale white and his face was cut in a clear pattern like the graph paper children used in school. At the intersection of each of the lines, a nail had been hammered into the man's flesh.

"What are you?" Bobby coughed spilling more blood from his lips.

"We are angels to some," Pinhead chuckled, "and demons to others. To you Bobby Singer, we shall be both."

Bobby smirked, raising a shotgun from behind him. He fired into Pinhead's torso, but the rock salt had little effect. "You summoned us Bobby. You surrendered your power to the box. Your soul belongs to us now."

"What if I ain't got a soul to sell," he grinned.

"Then we shall claim everything else." Pinhead grimaced. More hooked chains dug into Bobby's skin, raising him up off the ground. The old hunter groaned in pain as they began to pull with more strength and security than they should have been able. His flesh began to rip and he could not help but let out a scream of pain much to the demons' enjoyment.

The hooks tore the man who had once been Bobby Singer into small pieces covering the floor with a deep layer of blood. Pinhead turned and walked away, back to the Labyrinth. The Female followed him. The entire grisly scene vanished as the box returned to its normal formation.

Sam Winchester awoke in a cold sweat, the nightmare seeming to vivid and real.


	2. Chapter 1: Awakening

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by the CW and I'm not sure who owns Hellraiser atm, but it isn't me.

Sam Winchester shot up in bed covered in a cold sweat. The nightmare seemed so vivid, so real, the he could almost feel the rusty hooks on his skin. Absentmindedly he groped for the lamp on the bedside table of the rundown hotel he and Dean had been staying at. The soft flick and flood of light soothed him until his brother started cursing.

"Damn it San," Dean groaned rolling over away from the light, "what did you do have another nightmare?"

"Yeah Dean," Sam said, his voice shaky and he noticed so were his limbs, "I did. I think Bobby is dead."

Now Dean paid attention, sitting bolt upright and facing his brother. "Start talking."

"I had a dream like my old visions. Bobby was opening a box like one I saw in Dad's journals. Then these metal hooks shot into his skin and these demons showed up."

"Ripped him apart? C'mon Sam that's crazy. Call Bobby in the morning, I'm sure he's fine."

"Dean," Sam began but his brother cut him off.

"You said he opened the box right? Bobby would never be that stupid now get some sleep already."

"I guess you're right," Sam settled back a little uneasily. He wasn't sure Dean was right, but then again his brother had not seen what he had. Sam waited until the obnoxious sound of Dean's snoring filled the room once more, which in reality was less than two minutes, to climb out of his bed. He pulled his father's journal from his bag and stepped almost silently outside.

The pages ruffled in the cold wing that was blowing. Late October had settled in, bringing what felt like an early winter with it. Sam shivered, and silently wished he had put on his coat. He became wary of a pair of eyes on him and looked up to see a woman. She had dark curly hair and was standing in a silk nightgown smoking a cigarette off the balcony.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he joked if only because he was uneasy being watched. Being a hunter had taught him that much.

"Bad dreams," the woman replied glancing up and down over Sam's large form.

"I know the feeling," Sam sighed, his eyes falling back on the book. "A bit cold out here isn't it?"

"I couldn't smoke in the room," she replied nonchalantly, "good book?"

"My dad's journal," Sam chuckled. If nothing else the woman was a nice reprieve from the nightmare. Something about her character seemed familiar.

"Swipe it when dad fell asleep then?"

"No he died a few years ago. I'm here with my brother."

"Sorry to hear. My dad was killed about 11 years ago. I've been moving around ever since."

That sentiment passed with a slow exhale of cigarette smoke sealed it. She was like Dean and Sam. She was not so much on the run, but instead had no place to go. Sam was about to reply when he found the page he was looking for. The drawing his dad had made of the box was almost exact to the image in his dream.

"The Lament Configuration," Sam muttered aloud. The woman stiffened, dropping her cigarette off of the balcony in the process.

"What did you say?" She growled her question, seeming both angry and afraid at the same time.

"Oh nothing, just something in my dad's…" Sam began but her hands were on his collar holding him tight.

"You better start talking," her eyes blazed with some unknown fury.

"Who are you?" Sam said calmly, grabbing both her wrists and pulling himself out of her grip.

"My name is Kirsty Cotton, and the Lament Configuration ruined my life."


	3. Chapter 2: History of Pain

Chapter 2: History of Pain

**AN:** _Sorry this has gone forever without an update. I am trying to get back into the swing of things in 2013._

"My name is Kirstey Cotton, and the Lament configuration ruined my life." The once lovely face of the woman had turned into a scowl of rage as she held Sam by his collar.

"Kirstey Cotton?" Sam asked, using his free hand to flip forward a page in his father's journal until he saw her name, "daughter of Larry Cotton and wife of Trevor Gooden?"

"How did you?" she began, her grip loosening.

"My dad did an investigation after what happened in '87. In '88 he went to the Chernard Institute, but you had already gone. It doesn't say anything more other than that your husband died in 2002."

"He investigated me?" Kirstey screamed furiously, likely waking many of the people sleeping at the little motel.

Same shook his head. He had to fight himself not to break out of her grip and risk injuring her. "He was investigating the box, not you. You just happen to be one of the few people to ever survive it so obviously you are worth mentioning. What is the Lament Configuration, Kirstey?"

"Hell," she sighed, her grip weakening, "hell in a tiny golden box. For anyone foolish enough to solve the puzzle, a portal is opened. Then they come." She released Sam and turned away. Shaky fingers pulled a cigarette and a lighter from her gown. The flickering flame of the lighter would have revealed the terror in her eyes at the memory. She took a long drag before she spoke again while the thin wisps of smoke boiled from her lips. "The Cenobites; angels to some, demons to others."

"What are they?" Same asked while placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Kirstey sighed and tried to find the words, "Monsters. They were human once. Before they found the box. Their leader at the time I met them was once a man named Elliot Spencer. He was a soldier, but I don't know in what war for sure. Then the Cenobites got to him. They cut lines over his skull until he looked like a piece of fucking graph paper and at every intersection they hammered a nail into his skull. People called him Pinhead, but I don't think he ever said his real name. I guess its part of what makes him so terrifying. That and the almost medical consistency of those damned pins."

Sam took all of this in stride, and, though it was a close stretch, realized he had heard worse. "There were others I assume?"

"The first time I met them, they were fewer in number. The Chatterer, the Female, the Butterball, and Elliot. There was also a monster that attacked me that I believe was called the Engineer. Doctor Chernard became a cenobite as well, but he was defeated."

"Is that all you know?" Sam asked, flipping through his father's journal. Kirstey nodded and he began to read the carefully inked words straight from the book. "The Lament Configuration is the most notorious of a series of puzzles, individually known to some as a Lemarchand's box. Solving the puzzle will open a dimensional gateway across a realm called The Schism to the destination. This gateway can be traversed in either direction, but generally things come from the other side. The creatures, called Cenobites," Sam paused, "Dad made a note here in parentheses. (A Cenobite is a member of a communal religious order) who are part of a group called The Order of the Gash appear to the puzzle solver and the one who opened the game is almost always killed." Sam chose not to read the part that said 'See notes on Kirstey Cotton.'

Sam looked to the side and saw Dean, strangely out of character, standing at the slightly open door to their room and listening in. He continued, "The Cenobites are vastly intelligent and though compelled to seek out the person responsible for opening the gate, they have been shown to bypass the one to solve the puzzle if they were merely a pawn used by someone else to open the gate. As for the boxes themselves, they were created in the 18th century by Philip Lemarchand, a French toymaker. The original was commissioned by Duc de L'Isle. The first usage of the Lament Configuration summoned a demon princess named Angelique who inhabited the skin of a slain mortal woman (murdered by de L'Isle and his apprentice.) Angelique was theirs to command unless they stood in Hell's way. Angelique betrayed de L'Isle and killed him a few short days later."

"I never knew," Kirstey whispered, enthralled by the box's story.

"Lemarchand, who realized what he had created, was in the process of creating a new design (the Elysium Configuration) which would supposedly destroy the demons. He was discovered in an attempt to steal the Lament Configuration back and informed that he and his bloodline would be cursed until the end of time itself because of his involvement in the creation of the Lament Configuration. He was killed by Angelique, but his bloodline still lives. Have been unable to trace passed the beginning of the 19th century. That's all it says."

"So nothing about how to kill them?" Dean asked while he stepped through the door causing Kirstey to jump in fright.

"Who are you?" she shouted.

"Sammy's brother, Dean. And you are?"

"Kirstey Cotton," Sam explained. "Dean, there's something you should know. The demon in my dream about Bobby is one of the more vivid things I remember aside from the death. Dad doesn't even mention what they look like in the journal. But Kirstey, she described the Cenobites leader Pinhead, Dead, he's who I saw kill Bobby."

"I hope this is just another psychic thing Sam, but we need to check it out," Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bobby's number. The rings came slowly until the answering machine picked up.

"Nothing," Sam sighed.

"Guess we're making a trip to Sioux Falls, North Dakota," Dean gave an equal sigh.

"I'm coming with you!" Kirstey demanded and walked off to her room, presumably to pack.

Dean glared at Sam and the younger brother rolled his eyes, "She has fought them before Dean. We could use the help if anything is wrong. Even dad didn't know how to kill them."

"Fine, but she isn't riding in front."


End file.
